A Blow and its Consequences
by sbarra
Summary: A 'marriage of convenience' variation: What if Margaret's refusal of Thornton's first proposal had been interrupted by her ill mother? What if Margaret's parents had insisted on her accepting him?
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

The streets were crowded with people scurrying to the mills now that the strike had been broken. John Thornton stood at the lace-curtained window, hands clasped behind his back, waiting for Margaret Hale. His head was bowed and thoughts swirled in his troubled mind.

The second Margaret entered the room he sensed her presence, walking over to greet her and close the door. He fought to find the right words, but one look at her uneasy face made him feel lost. Thornton glanced at the fruit he had brought for her ill mother.

He cleared his throat, "I had not noticed the colour of this fruit." He watched her turning away from him and tried another tack, "Miss Hale, I'm afraid I was very ungrateful yesterday."

Images flooded through Margaret's mind, not the least of which was his pallid face as he had sought to catch her when a protestor's stone had hit her temple. Margaret sighed, wanting to make little of it. She certainly did not want her worried parents to become dismayed. "You've nothing to be grateful for."

Thornton watched her absentmindedly touch her temple. "I think that I do."

Margaret was proud and resolute in her refusal of his praise, "Why, I did only the least that anyone would have."

Thornton wrinkled his brow in disbelief, "That can't be true." He could not believe that any young woman would deny him, not after she had declared her passionate regard so openly. His sister, Fanny, had not stopped crowing about how every servant had seen her 'throwing herself' at the master.

Margaret, however, merely reasoned with him, "Well, I was, after all, responsible for placing you in danger. I told you to try to placate the protestors. I would have done the same for any man there."

This wounded him and he spoke over the lump in his throat, "Any man? So you approve of that violence. You think I got what I deserved?"

Margaret was surprised at how irked he had become, "Oh, no, of course not! But they were desperate. I know if you were to talk to them..."

Thornton sighed and glanced away, "I forgot. You imagine them to be your friends." He was surprised that he actually felt jealous of the factory hands whom she doted upon; not that, he supposed, he wished to be a charity case, but he would have given anything to see the same concern for his welfare gracing her features, that he saw when she spoke of the inhabitants of the worker's cottages.

Margaret struggled to read the storm cloud of emotions in his dark features, "But if you were to be reasonable..." she interjected.

Thornton misinterpreted her words, "Me? Are you saying that I'm unreasonable?"

Margaret tried again to make herself understood, "If you would talk with them and not set the soldiers on them." She hesitated; wondering whether would they ever see eye to eye. "I-I know they would..." 

Thornton glared at her, "They will get what they deserve." He could not believe that she could defend that rabble. All night he had dreamt of the blood trickling down her pale cheek and staining her white gown. Did she not realise with what vehemence he had sent the constables after Boucher and a few of the other ringleaders?

Margaret was gazing at him, at a loss for words.

He moved closer to her and lowered his voice, softening his tone. "Miss Hale, I didn't just come here to thank you. I came because...I think it very likely... I know I've never found myself in this position before. It's difficult to find the words." He paused, wishing that he could begin the whole conversation again. He gazed at her and said softly, "Miss Hale, my feelings for you are very strong."

To his utter astonishment she was shaking her head. "Please, stop. Will you - Please don't go any further," Margaret said in a rush.

Thornton was puzzled and mortified, "Excuse me?"

Margaret fought the urge to flee, "Please don't continue in that way. It's not the way of a gentleman." She withdrew to look out of the window.

Thornton angrily walking around his side of the table to stand beside her. "I'm well aware that in your eyes at least I'm not a gentleman! But I think I deserve to know why I am offensive?"

A noise from the hallway startled Margaret, but she rushed on. "It offends me that you should speak to me as if it were your duty to rescue my reputation."

Thornton spoke from the heart, "I spoke to you about my feelings because I love you. I have no thought for your reputation!"

Another noise from the hallway drew her notice, but the tumult of her mind was too great to think much on it. "You think that because you are rich and my father is in reduced circumstances that you can have me for your possession? I suppose I should expect no less from someone in trade!"

Thornton was angry at her petulant imputation, "I don't want to possess you, I wish to marry you because I love you!"

"I cannot think of love; not when my friend, Bessy is dying." Margaret protested.

"I am not to blame for her illness; I have fans in the carding rooms and…"

"Please, I was not accusing you," Margaret protested.

"I love…"

Margaret looked away, "You shouldn't because I…"

The door crashed open and her Mama almost fell onto the table, knocking the fruit bowl to the ground in her attempt to break her fall by grasping for the wooden edge. Thornton and Margaret moved as one. He reached her first, sitting and cradling the ill woman in his arms.

"Mrs Hale?" Thornton gasped, "Are you injured?"

Margaret crouched beside them, wiping her mother's fevered brow with a handkerchief. The unshed tears that had welled in Margaret's eyes now fell down her cheeks. Her mother, seemingly oblivious to everything, nevertheless reached out to wipe them away.

"Fetch your maidservant," Thornton barked, always calm in a crisis. "She may be badly hurt."

Margaret rushed out, not stopping to don a bonnet or shawl as she hurried towards the market.

Almost as soon as her daughter was out of earshot, Mrs Hale recovered her bearings.

"Please help me into a chair, Mr Thornton."

"Certainly," he replied, but he insisted on carrying the kindly woman through to the parlour where she would be much more comfortable. He returned after hastily collecting the fruit-bowl and offered her some of the exotic fruit he had collected from the rug.

Mrs Hale's voice was raspy, but her eyes showed her determination. "My daughter is much like an unripe pear, but she shall say 'Yes' to your kind proposal, Mr Thornton."

He was surprised, but knew that his own mother would have eavesdropped in similar circumstances. "I would not have her do so unless she truly loves me, Mrs Hale."

"My daughter has been very sheltered," she coughed and then continued, "Margaret understands little of the way in which gentlemen, like yourself, think. I know that people often think her proud or to have an air of indifference," she clucked her tongue. "No, she is stubborn and spirited - you just saw that yet again, but she is also shy. Margaret has always compared herself unfavourably with her cousin Edith. She spent much of her youth with our pretty, blonde niece. Gentlemen were always eager to make Edith's acquaintance; my daughter does not see herself in a kind light."

"She is one of the most bonny women of my acquaintance!" Thornton exclaimed, having trouble reconciling his desire for the beautiful Margaret with the picture that her mother had painted of how the young lady saw herself. He could well see himself not up to the standards of the dashing Captain Lennox that her father had spoken of. Thornton understood the urge to think of oneself as being far beneath others.

"You undoubtedly startled her by declaring such passionate feelings for her," Mrs Hale continued. "When I have reassured her that you are highly valued for your sense and intellect, by her Papa, and will undoubtedly provide well for her… after…" a tear fell down the sickly woman's cheek, "after I am gone… then Margaret shall gladly accept your hand. You shall be kind to her and…"

Thornton began to protest that he would not want Margaret to be prevailed upon to marry him. The slamming of the front door, however, made a frantic look cross Mrs Hale's pale features. 

She clutched his hands, almost unsettling the fruit bowl once more. "You must not tell Mr Hale how very bad my health is. He would lose all hope. Please keep it between us."

Thornton reluctantly nodded and Dixon was soon bustling into the room. "Madam, what's this I hear about a fall?" her voice boomed. "You were supposed to be abed until noon!"

"The only thing bruised is my pride," Mrs Hale assured her. "Mr Thornton has taken good care of me."

Thornton still knelt beside the matron's chair, truly worried for the poor tutor's wife. Margaret pulled a small stool close beside her mother's armchair and sat beside her. Margaret's long skirts flowed around her. Mrs Hale clasped her daughter's trembling hand.

"Mr Thornton, may I prevail upon you to fetch a pound cake or the like for morning tea? I'm afraid we quite interrupted Dixon's errands."

"I shall go to the High Street Bakery," he declared, his tone friendly.

Mrs Hale watched the longing look he cast at Margaret as he took his leave. She was convinced that her daughter would be accepting his marriage proposal when they next met.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

John Thornton had barely crossed the threshold before Mrs Hale began to talk Dixon into leaving to go in search of Mr Hale.

"I shall be fine," she assured the concerned maid. "Do you think Margaret will leave my side for an instant? I merely tripped on the rug earlier."

"I swear there's a loose floorboard in that ramshackle room!" Dixon exclaimed, nervously wringing her hands.

"Please fetch Mr Hale," her mistress implored her, and Dixon, who truly could not deny Mrs Hale anything, left for the lending library.

Margaret looked on pensively, wondering how much her Mama had overheard. She would be mortified if her Mama was about to chastise her for leading Mr Thornton on. She had certainly had no intentions towards him of any kind! She was not sure if she even liked him!

"I must ask you to reconsider your hasty answer to Mr Thornton's proposal, my dear," Mrs Hale began.

Margaret was shocked, "Mama! You should not have been listening to our conversation!"

Mrs Hale nodded, "I agree, my love, but if I had not been listening, you may have offended Mr Thornton." Mrs Hale squeezed her daughter's hand. "I would be remiss in my duties if I had not protected your interests in this matter. It would be foolish to rebuff a man of means who has a passion for you, Margaret."

Margaret glancing at her mother's wedding rings and protested, "Mama, it is a lady's right to refuse! You married for love! You married based on ideals!"

"Indeed," Mrs Hale replied, nodding, "so you see, my love, I am in the best position to advise you in this situation. Are you willing to hear me out, Margaret?"

She grew cross at her daughter's pacing and, reluctantly, Margaret resumed her seat. Doctor Donaldson's admonishments to keep her Mama calm warred with Margaret's desire to give her a piece of her mind.

"As you know, I did, at first, think Mr Thornton much beneath us. Then, after I became used to our reduced circumstances, I began to see that he was the most polite student your father has acquired, and that his attentions to you were most kind and constant."

"I had no idea of him seeing me in such a way," Margaret mumbled pensively.

"That is because you saw yourself as the poor relation in Edith's circle of friends, my dear. Now, don't interrupt."

Margaret almost smiled; it was a relief to see a rosier hue in her Mama's cheeks. She moved her hands with animation as she spoke. This unlikely proposal had quite rejuvenated her.

"Having been the belle of Rutlandshire, the ward of Sir John and Lady Beresford, and an honoured guest of the Shaw's in London society, I sought an adventure, a change, a novelty. If I knew then that," she sighed, "…that your Papa would turn his back on some of the ideals he held so dear as a country rector, then perhaps I would have made a different choice."

Margaret was surprised at the earnest determination blazing in her mother's eyes. She swallowed several attempts to defend her father. He had, after all, put principles and matters of conscience above his family's wellbeing. When she rehearsed this in her mind before saying it aloud, it did not seem like much of a defence at all.

Mrs Hale dabbed at her eyes. "My dear, I married for love, but sometimes I wish I had not. You see, I spurned the advances of a young man whom could have protected my children better from want. He was the eldest son of a neighbouring baronet, but he was arrogant and I resented being forced to sit still and listen to his pompous speeches."

Margaret nodded, wondering if her mother understood her feelings after all. The humiliation she had felt when lectured about charity during the strike, at the Thorntons' dinner party, came to mind.

"This baronet is, even now, a Member of Parliament, and when I read in the newspapers that his views on humanitarian causes have softened, I think, 'Oh, why was I so impatient?' Would it not have been better to marry someone who could have provided me with a stable home for all my days? We could have, in time and by God's grace, grown to love one another. Instead, we are here in this place that makes me ill."

Margaret wiped her eyes with her handkerchief and then looked up at her Mama, "It is not, however, always the case that the lady falls in love with the gentleman after all. Aunt Shaw's experience with the General taught me that. Sometimes one marries for financial security and suffers through many years of unhappiness."

"Your Aunt, as dear as she is to us, was not willing to change any of her own preconceptions, my dear. I am asking you to consider marrying Mr Thornton because he can provide well for you, but I am hoping that you shall mature in to a woman with the virtue of being able to be shaped by the Great Potter for His noble purposes. Think of all the good you could do in Milton as the wife of a doting gentleman, wealthy manufacturer and powerful magistrate like Mr Thornton? How many girls like Bessy and Mary could you help?"

Margaret spoke over the lump in her throat. "You truly wish for me to consider marrying him?"

"I think we both know that the Lord will soon call me Home, Margaret." She raised a hand at Margaret's look of protest. "Thinking about the end of one's life gives one a fresh perspective on what truly matters in life. If I could close my eyes for the last time knowing that you would be protected from harm, then I would be able to rest in peace."

Margaret heard Mr Thornton's boots on the stairs and sat still. Margaret wished to examine her own heart in solitude, but she knew that her Mama wanted her to encourage his suit.


End file.
